My Bubba

All the things that people say about life and death seem so cliché and trite.
And then something happens to you and you cling to the only words you can find to express how you feel. So forgive me if this sounds disingenuous, I assure you I would speak more eloquently if I could. But this is all I can think to say…

"I'm standing on the shore. A ship spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean. I stand watching her until she fades on the horizon. And someone at my side says, 'She is gone.'
Gone where? The loss of sight is in me, not in her. Just at that moment when someone says, 'She is gone,' there are others who are watching her coming. Other voices take up the glad and shout, 'Here she comes!'
..And that is dying."

I’m not sure what I believe happens after death. But this quote is lovely and somehow comforting. Someone sent it to me today and it made me smile as I cried.

My Grandma Bubba passed away yesterday.

As I watched her breathe her last breath I realized how lucky I am to have known her. I never knew my birth mom's mother. My mom wasn’t really present in my life, so I never got a chance to meet my maternal grandmother. I never knew my father’s mother. She passed away when my father was on his honeymoon. So my step-mom’s mother became the only grandma I ever knew.

And she was perfect.

She was completely adorable and utterly delightful.
She welcomed everyone she met with open arms and a full plate of food.

She was the epitome of a story book grandma; she was a mere 5 feet tall with a round belly that told of years of chocolate cake and bread pudding indulgence.

She had an old house with a big front porch and a kitchen table big enough to feed any of her 14 grandbabies.

She would let me lie on her lap and play with my hair while she told me stories of moving to New York in 1933 when she was just 16.

She lit up when a child entered the room. And babies clung to her because they could sense what a kind soul she had, in the way that only babies and puppies can sense.

She was tiny but full of vim and vigor. She had a rich and crackly laugh from too many years of smoking. She appreciated the simpler things and had a zest for life that was marvelously contagious.

She was lovely and full of grace.

And the best part is that she was mine.
She was my Bubba and I will miss her dearly.